


Within the Eye of the Storm

by Lightvsdark777



Category: Maggot Baits
Genre: Amnesia, Blood, Implied Full Tour, Metal Spikes, Nearly drowning in blood, Oral Vore, Other, Soft Vore, Torture, Vore, flood - Freeform, head first, urban explorer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightvsdark777/pseuds/Lightvsdark777
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Within the Eye of the Storm

You awake within a small chamber. The chamber was dark and small. Too dark for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, as though you were floating through the endless dark between the stars. The chamber was too small for you to stand, but the walls elastic enough for you to stretch your body. The walls constantly moved like an earthworm’s coils and were slick with what felt like slime, refusing you from getting purchase. The air smelled of something like chemicals and rotting wood, with the humidity inside your chamber almost simulating the sensation of drowning when you took in your first few breaths. An oppressive heat assailed your body from all sides, with the walls being nearly too hot to touch. A slow, steady pulsing sound emanated from all directions, its pulsing beat reverberating through your body and into your core like a war drum motioning you to march down into Hell. At times, gurgles and whines like the bellies of starving animals rang out from areas too close for comfort. It was almost as though you were trapped within some architect of flesh’s idea of a Sicilian bull. 

Your first instinct was one of panic. Primal. Instinctive. Ruthless. You kicked and punched and shoved at the easily yielding walls but they never once came down. Your screams seemed to reverberate through your fleshy prison as though you were trapped in a small, collapsed cave. When you went for your twenty-fifth kick, a voice rang out. It was a woman’s voice, stoic and dignified. The language she spoke... You recognized it as Japanese, but you could not understand the language without the assistance of a translator, living or machine. The voice sounded so close that it seemed to reverberate from a place next to your left arm. A faint glimmer of hope became fresh in your mind then. You instinctively turned in the direction of the voice and pressed your face and hands into the walls. The nearly scorching heat emanating from the walls stung your face, with the slime clinging to the walls stinging your eyes like hornets. You didn’t care for all of two seconds. Rescue had seemingly arrived. After you did the act that stung your eyes, you instinctively pulled away from the pain of a stinging fluid coating your eyes like mercury was poured into them. You started struggling against the tight, hot confines of your fleshy jail cell, screaming for help and begging whoever was out there to save you. You then heard another voice. Also in Japanese, it was the voice of a man. It seemed farther away, as though standing away from the prison you were trapped within. The sound of metal being lightly knocked came from the direction of the voice. It was loud, as though it was nearly as close to your prison of writhing flesh as the woman was. Your struggles became lackluster as the muscles in your arms and legs began to ache, screaming for respite. Before you could register exactly where you were in space, the eerily close woman and the faraway man began to have a conversation. 

The woman spoke first. Her voice, still stoic and dignified, now had a twinge of condescending questioning as well as a mix of both confidence and pride, as though she could never die. The man spoke again. His voice, though you couldn’t understand what he was saying, seemed to have a hint of venomous intent behind it. The woman spoke again. The man spoke again, with that strange hint of venom returning strong. The woman spoke again, though her statement was brief. The man responded again, his voice growing somewhat impatient. The woman spoke again, her words again brief. After a brief pause, he spoke again. As he spoke, his voice seemed seductive yet still full of venom, words oozing like honey from a nest of hornets. 

Then the strikes began to ring out. 

The strikes were metallic and yet not; a merging of flesh and metal to create something almost alien to listen to. With what you assumed was one fell swoop, the first strike rang out. The strike brought with it sounds like a predator rending the flesh of its unfortunate prey and the crushing of an eggshell the size of a full grown man. All of this followed in the quarter second by a clanging sound like something heavy and metallic striking something of nearly identical properties and proportions. You heard the woman make a cry of restrained pain the moment the clanging sound rang out. Your struggling abruptly stopped then, a disturbed confusion flooding your mind in a deluge as your arm and leg muscles received the rest they longed for. You heard her cry out in restrained agony _after_ you heard the clanging noise. Was she a part of your prison somehow? Maybe attached to it like a fetus in utero? Or perhaps your fleshy prison was some kind of parasite, growing by feeding on her blood?

Before you had time to ponder on the question further, your thoughts were scrambled when the man spoke again. His words now had a clear intent of malice that you could feel despite his apparent distance from you. The woman then spoke, her statement choppy with pain, but still restrained and dignified. The man spoke again, his words having flecks of joy in them. After a pause, he spoke again, his words again seductive yet malicious. Almost as if on cue, the woman responded to his words, with hints of condescension and disgust sprinkled generously in them. The man responded again, though his words were cut off by a sudden, ear-splitting gurgle that seemed to come from right behind you. That same sound of tearing flesh and crunching eggshells mixes with the woman’s cries of pain rang out just as the gurgling died down. The man said something, and then that same intense flesh-and-eggshells sound followed by another metallic clanking noise. The woman cried out in pain again, with her cry followed up by a pained, yet furious reply. The man said something again, all the honey in his voice replaced by the venom of a blue-ringed octopus. The distorted joy in his voice made the venom even stronger. The woman made some slight pained breaths in, then responding to what he said with that same condescending yet disgusted tone. The woman’s response to what the man said resulted in the man speaking again, his statement longer and that same toxic joy dripping from his voice. 

You began to realize then that this was no rescue mission. The woman was being tortured, with you in your prison of flesh being the unwitting spectator. But why did those sounds of flesh tearing and the crushing of eggs sound so close...? The sound of ripping flesh and the woman’s pained cries invaded your ears like some kind of twisted parasite, disrupting your thoughts just like that. No more of this. You wanted to think to yourself with no interruption. You shifted in your chamber of flesh, covered your ears with your hands, and shut the world out. What had happened before this prison of quivering flesh suddenly surrounded you? What was the source of these strange gurgling sounds? Why did the sounds of breaking bones and ripping flesh seem so close? Why was this woman being tortured?

Your thoughts and questions were instantly shattered and ground into a fine powder when _something_ came into your chamber, emerging from a space right between your legs. A loud clank rang out as the pole-like object penetrated the wall above your head and hit something with a dull, metallic clang, with the woman’s cry of pain following immediately after. The offending object was cold as ice and felt almost like metal to the touch. Before you had the change to process what happened, your jail began to fill with a liquid at a startling pace. The heat emanating from the walls seemed as merely dying embers compared to the liquid entering your chamber. The liquid was almost as though fire was given a liquid form. It seared your flesh and forced waves of agony to ripple across your body like a series of tsunamis. Your panic and struggles were revitalized tenfold as the liquid fire seared your flesh. You pounded and kicked at the walls, screaming for freedom, a rescue from potentially drowning, and a respite from the pain the liquid was giving you. Just as the liquid fire reached your neck, you heard a wet slurping sound as your fleshy chamber suddenly emptied by half of the liquid that came in. Where this liquid was being taken, you had barely any idea. 

Until the woman coughed. The cough was wet and sputtering, like someone being resuscitated after drowning. 

The realization of exactly _where_ you were hit you with the force of a freight train going nearly the speed of light. Yes, you were being forced to spectate a torture session, possibly being broadcasted to a website hidden deep in the dark web. You weren’t in some parasite or organic jail cell. You were _**inside**_ a woman that was undergoing heartless torture. And you knew exactly where you were in her body as well. You were in the stomach, one of the main contributors of digestion. Here, chewed-up food was processed, and the nutrients absorbed. The human body is a well-oiled machine. And you’ve found yourself right in the machine’s furnace. That pulsing noise? The heart. The internal combustion engine. The very thing that gives the machine a human is functionality. The liquid that scalded your flesh and was still pumping in with the force of a breached dam? Blood. The fuel. A fuel line was burst, the precious fuel inside spraying into the furnace, threatening to drown you in its scalding embrace. You figured then that you were either normal-sized and she was huge, or you were suddenly as small as a beetle and she was normal-sized. You had no time to ponder on the question of how you shrank as the woman’s blood invaded your nostrils and mouth. The choking scent and taste of rust suffocated you from the inside as you gasped for air, meeting only more blood in return. Your lungs cried out for the air they desperately needed as the muffled voice of the woman and the now nearly nonexistent voice of the man echoed through your flooded, burning ears. The all-consuming pain of the experience flooded your mind with a dark so much more omnipresent than that of the woman’s stomach as you blacked out. 

###  10 minutes later... 

You awoke from dreams filled with strange, dancing lights among fields of crooked teeth filled with annelids with a start. The darkness and sounds of a gurgling stomach surrounding you reminded you of the ordeal you had like a dagger in your side. The ache to breathe made you cough. And cough. And cough. And then puke. You still couldn’t breathe. After what felt like an hour of gagging and hacking, you felt something warm and worm-like come out. Whatever it was, it landed on the wet floor with a sickening splat. You knew that it was a blood clot in the shape of your inner lungs that formed from blood that was not yours. You breathed in with both your mouth and nose and nearly regretted it the instant the smell touched your nostrils. When you first woke up inside the woman, the smell of her stomach was both earthy and like chemicals. Now, the smell was fetid, like a drowning victim’s corpse. No more blood was coming in, and any breach you tried to find by pawing around in the dark was gone. The thumping of her heart above you told you that she was somehow still alive and well. The question of how reverberated through your mind. You could hear her muttering to herself, her fluent Japanese making it impossible to decipher without a translator. There was something familiar about her voice... As she kept talking, a sudden wave of memories washed over you like a blanket. 

###  6.5 hours earlier... 

Kantou’s Pandemonium would, to normal people, be the anathema to an ideal vacation site. You were not one of those people. You had a taste for adventure since you were a child. To you, Kantou’s Pandemonium was the holy grail of adventure. Like a real life Dungeons and Dragons session. Since the emergence of the Witches almost a decade earlier, a section of city once governed by democracy became governed by what seemed like anarchy. The city became its own state after the Japanese government did everything they could to stop the witches, to no avail. The witches defied human understanding. They could make weapons known as Brutal Edges from their blood without having to wound themselves. Exclusively female, they got their power by draining the semen from men through any of their three orifices. They were walking disasters that could not be stopped by anything mankind threw at it. Now only wild animals, pets both owned and stray, the witches and people attracted to the city by its anarchy lived there. The one upside was that the witches couldn’t leave the city. They physically were unable to leave. It was like an impenetrable, invisible dome-shaped barrier kept them from leaving. Though in the years following, people found out that witches became just as vulnerable as a human if their Brutal Edge broke, causing them to lose the blood those weapons were made of. People also found out that the only way to truly kill a witch was to cut off the head. But to the Japanese government, Kantou’s Pandemonium was a lost cause. And against all logic and reasoning, you went into the city armed with only a phone, a two-foot-long charger cable, three solar powered battery packs, the best digital translator that the time period had to offer that translated various languages to English and vice versa, and some Sony-brand corded earbuds to use when you wanted to listen to podcasts or music. All of it waterproofed. 

You planned on recording a vlog and posting what you recorded every hour or so. The first three hours you spent in the city were uneventful, much to your dismay. Though you saw the witches native to the city, they weren’t in the middle of a fight. When you spent thirty more minutes in the city, you finally managed to see the witches in action. Two of them, to be specific. The first one was lithe in frame, had pigtails, blue eyes, diminutive horns jutting out of her forehead, and wielded a ball-and-chain flail twice as long as she was as her Brutal Edge. The second one was tall, built like a tank, had yellow eyes, bear-like ears as well as normal ears, and wielded a pair of saw-like blades as her Brutal Edge. Though you caught them draining the semen from three passerby, with the smaller one draining two at once, when their Brutal Edges came out, boy howdy they did **not** mess around. The two of them killed the men they had sex with, with who knows how many passerby being caught in the crossfire. You thought you were going to be another number on the body count too when the buff one flipped over a car and sent the engine flying at you. But through some kind of James Bond-level cheating death kind of luck, you ducked into a nearby alley just in time. 

But you guessed fate was frowning on you from pulling that stunt, because it used whatever magic-type horseshit that turned the city Kantou’s Pandemonium used to be into a madhouse on you without your knowledge. Then you started shrinking. It was slow, and you didn’t notice it at first. But after about thirty minutes of taking pictures of witches from the shadows with your phone and trying your best to stay hidden, you started noticing that the doors were getting taller. In fact, everything that wasn’t on your person was becoming bigger. The people, the witches, the objects, the buildings, the animals, everything started growing. As with everything else you documented during your stay in the city, you documented the shrinking on your blog. Even when you thought the shrinking had ended the shrinking continued. Over the course of an hour, you shrunk to about 2 inches tall, with your phone, clothes, and equipment shrinking proportionally. 

When you shrunk to two inches tall, you stopped shrinking. Upon realize your newfound small size, you didn’t know what to do next. You figured that you could live out the rest of your life at two inches tall, scrounging around for scraps such as crumbs away from the public eye like a rodent. A meager, unassuming existence, yes. But infinitely better than either purposefully or accidentally dying at the hands of people who now towered over you. Now instead of having to seek out witches and take pictures or videos of them from the shadows, quickly fleeing if they either got too close or took notice of you, you would have to actively avoid them. Because at your size, an individual, regardless if they were human or witch, could be just as dangerous as a thousand at regular size. But it seemed that fate still wasn’t done with you. Because as you turned down an alley with your eyes on a two-hour long YouTube Poop you were 5/6ths done with, you walked face first into the boot of a witch out for a stroll. Although she might have not noticed you and stepped on you, giving you a far quicker and merciful demise, fate had other plans in mind. The shock from slamming into an object that wasn’t there before caused you to drop your phone, which disconnected from your earbuds and played on full volume:

https://youtu.be/VXD0zWP1Lrs?t=4790 (Warning: LOUD!)

Though the ear rape being emitted by your phone stopped the witch in her tracks, you had no time to lose. You quickly recovered and managed to sprint over and grab your phone, pausing the video as to not attract any more attention than you already did. But fate _**STILL**_ was not finished with you, and other than that, it would’ve taken a miracle for her to not see you. But you no longer had such insane luck. A few seconds after you grabbed your phone and managed to shut the screen off, you felt the ground suddenly give way beneath your feet and your shirt suddenly tighten around your front as you were lifted up into the air. Fear brutally clashed with awe inside your mind like a pair of hyenas competing for a mate as you reflexively turned your head to look at your captor. You saw her cloth-covered knees first. Then her crotch. Then her navel. Then the space between her breasts. Then her collarbone. And at last, her face. She wasn’t exactly built like a tank like the one that nearly killed you with a carelessly flung car motor, but her midsection certainly looked like she was working out. Aside from that, she had violet eyes, bull horns jutting out of both sides of her head, and thankfully didn’t have her Brutal Edge out. If you were normally sized, your eyes would have been at the level of her collarbone. At your present size, if she was barefoot, your eyes would be at the level of her ankles. Now, it was like staring into the eight eyes of Mount Rushmore. Just as you suspected from someone seeing an individual of your size, a look of curious confusion was plastered on her face, her luminescent violet eyes piercing your soul like daggers. She brought you closer to her face to inspect you as one might an insect. 

She asked a question, the volume of her untranslated Japanese rattling you to your core like an earthquake. Though at normal size her voice might not have been too loud, it turns out that size really does matter. Recognizing the situation only after the shock passed, you grabbed your translator out of your pocket and spoke into it “Please move me a bit further away from your face. At my size, it makes my eardrums nearly burst. Also, could you please repeat your question?”. Two seconds of processing and translating what you said passed, and the translator relayed what you said to the enormous witch in perfect, if monotone and slightly robotic Japanese. Her eyes flickered with confusion at first, but she understood what you wanted and moved you at what seemed like to her a quarter arm’s length away from her face. Then she repeated the question. The question was translated as a simple “Why are you so small?”. Though the timbre of her voice was still deafening, it wasn’t so severe as to make you go completely deaf if you listened to her talk for too long. You responded to her question by stating “The only thing I do know is that I cheated death and ended up this way over the course of an hour.”. As the translator relayed the message in Japanese, the witch furrowed her brow. She then asked a longer question, which took the translator longer to process. The device grew warm in your hands as the words “Well, if you don’t know how you ended up so small, why are you running around in the alleys? Things could get you. And besides, I’ve worked up a bit of an-“. Before the device could finish the sentence, the device sparked and then switched to a French translation. Then it grew too hot to hold in an instant, forcing you to drop the device from the pain of having your hands scorched. It must’ve taken about five seconds for the device to hit the ground, which it did with a pop, a flash, and a puff of smoke. You looked down in humiliation as your one shot of translating what she said was snuffed like a dying star. The witch looked down at your misfortune and shook her head, saying a Japanese word you know meant ‘Useless’. She then brought you closer to her face with an intention that you would figure out all too late. 

As she opened her mouth, a wave of panic washed over your mind as her warm, humid breath washed over your body. You stated thrashing and screaming as the witch put you into her mouth and laid you on her tongue. You knew humans and witches were similar in terms of body temperature, but at your newfound size, it felt like touching the inside of a heated oven with your entire body. If the inside of said oven was covered in copious amounts of strangely thick cooking oil. The minute your bare skin touched the surface of the inside of her mouth, you let out a scream that would put the ones you hear in horror movies to shame. The scream seemed to surprise the witch, as she let you go sooner than expected and almost dropped you. The witch stopped you from plummeting to the pavement below by clamping her lips around your midsection. Not that the heat emanating from her lips, which was slightly cooler than the inside of her mouth, helped too much. The panic that washed over you then consumed every last bit of sense you had, leaving behind only an animalistic sense of self-preservation. You screamed for help. You beat your fists against her lips. You kicked the inside of her mouth. Thankfully, she had no intention of biting down. However, she had other plans in mind. Her tongue shifted beneath your thrashing legs and she puckered her lips, slurping you inside her mouth with the force of an industrial-sized vacuum. Now you were inside her mouth, surrounded by darkness, saliva, and hot flesh. 

Outside her mouth, as you struggled, the witch was walking through the maze of alleys that was the inner part of Kantou’s Pandemonium. She was looking for someone. And eventually, she found who she was looking for. The second witch questioned her as for why she was gone for so long and what she had in her mouth. The lack of response from the first witch disgruntled the second. The second witch walked over and began inspecting the first, despite the first displaying rejective body language. She felt the first witch’s cheeks. Then her lips. Then, she pried two fingers into the first witch’s mouth and opened it. 

The sudden opening of the witch’s mouth momentarily stunned you. The sudden transition from all-consuming darkness to the light of what must’ve been a thousand suns at once ground all thinking to a halt. And so too did your actions halt. When your eyes adjusted, your vision met the piercing orange eyes of a second witch. Though you couldn’t see her full body, you could see her face, her pupils visibly shrunken. Her eyes were orange, and she had a shocked look on her face, clearly not expecting to see you, a tiny person, inside this witch’s mouth. The newcomer then said “... 何 ?!”, a word you knew meant ‘what’. Before she could say anything else, your captor’s lips clamped around the fingers of the newcomer, plunging you into darkness yet again. The tongue beneath you unexpectedly, flashing you back into reality, and started lewdly caressing the newcomer’s fingers. The newcomer let out a disgusted exclamation and retracted her fingers instantly. The tongue then shifted back towards you, wrapping around your form like some sick freak’s idea of a breakfast burrito just as you began to struggle. 

You didn’t hear your captor walk per se. You felt her footsteps, the vibrations made by her footsteps thinned out by the time it reached you, but still apparent. From what you could tell, she embraced the newcomer and pulled her in for a kiss. The tongue surged forwards, exiting your captor’s mouth, giving you a brief glimpse of light, and then darkness as the tongue entered the mouth of the newcomer, leaving you behind as it rapidly exited. The shock of what just happened jarred the newcomer, who started to cough as if trying to expel a foreign object. However, your previous captor put a hand over the newcomer’s mouth and slowly tipped her head back against her will. You started to slowly slide as your newfound yet unwilling captor started to gag. You remembered your phone then. You turned it on, turned on its flashlight, and shone it directly in front of you. So much pink. The inner flesh of the witch was dominated by pink flecked with cracks of red and bluish-purple. The color of oxygenated and deoxygenated blood respectively. Capillaries. Thin networks of blood vessels that help blood get to even the most inaccessible parts of the human body. You reached out a hand to stop yourself from sliding, with your upper body already beyond the soft palate. You shone your phone’s light down through her vocal cords and down into her windpipe, and maybe even into her lungs if you were close enough and/or your phone’s flashlight was bright enough. 

But that didn’t matter now. You lost your grip on the wall and fell forwards as a sudden, involuntary movement came from your newfound captor’s tongue. And a space behind the vocal cords opened up to drown you in a way you never thought you'd go. Your head and hands went in first. Then the rest of your upper body. Then the rest of your body. As your feet fell through, you heard your unwilling captor cough twice, clear her throat, and angrily shout something untranslated at the other witch. Much like the back of her throat, the lining of the witch’s esophagus was pink and flecked with cracks of red and bluish-purple. The main difference was that the walls were much slicker with saliva than the back of her throat, denying you any purchase. Plus, the peristaltic movement of the esophagus was oppressive, forcing you down the esophagus at regular intervals. No matter how hard you tried, you failed to slow your descent down the witch’s esophagus, your cries echoing through the fleshy tube like shouting into the darkness of a long abandoned maintenance tunnel. Though the heat of the witch’s inner body was unbearable before, it just got worse and worse as a slow, steady pulsing sound that once seemed somewhat faint got louder. When the pulsing was at its loudest, it seemed as though you were going to be both cooked alive and deafened at the same time. But the pulsing faded and the extreme heat of her heart cooled but did not fully dissipate. 

And without warning, a sudden tightness around your hands gave way to an open space as you were pushed effortlessly through what you knew was a sphincter, your body falling into the stomach beyond with a splattering noise. Though fear and the sense of self-preservation had already overtaken your mind when you lost your grip on the back of the witch’s throat, the panic that overtook you now was a mindless thing. You kicked, punched, scratched, slapped and bit at the walls to no avail. You could hear the witch’s internal thundering as well as her voice. From what you could tell, she was not pleased with your previous captor for pulling the stunt that sent you into what you thought was oblivion at first. You could hear the voice of your previous captor as well, though noticeably muffled by what seemed like to you several feet of thick flesh. Your muscles began to ache and cry out for rest as you struggled, forcing you to stop. For you, it seemed like this was it. You were going to die in here and become nothing more than nutrients for the witch’s body. The adrenaline that once surged through you like a mighty deluge became little more than a thin, shallow stream as the various thought processes of what exactly to do next overwhelmed you, forcing you into a deep sleep. 

###  Present... 

You understood now. You entered Kantou’s Pandemonium seeking adventure and never left, just like so many other foolhardy individuals before you. Whereas they either chose to never return from the city, were torn to ribbons by a witch, or entered one of the many criminal gangs, your fate was different. You had cheated death against all odds. And this was your punishment. You’re not sure how your unwitting and unwilling captor came to be captured and subject to torture you might never find out how, but you knew that the only thing that could weaken a witch was another witch. That was when people could finally injure a witch through normal means. And the witch’s malicious captors had no idea that you were inside their prey. The revelation of such a thing washed over your mind as a sudden sense of worldliness invaded your thoughts. You felt for your phone. Thankfully, it was still with you, unharmed and still had charge. You were an hour and thirty minutes late for posting a vlog to YouTube. Realizing this, you turned on your phone and livestreamed your final vlog. The light hurt your eyes, but you didn’t care. You apologized for not posting sooner first. You sarcastically commented on your surroundings, then proceeded to explain everything between the previous vlog and this one. You ended with how you planned on surviving for just a little while longer before ending the live vlog. The moment you detailed your experience with your previous captor and how you came to be contained, the chat went wild. Emoticons and various versions of “bro u just got fucking vored” and “how tf are you still alive” aside, you found a few gems in the chat.

“GODSPEED OP”

“OP YOUR SACRIFICE WILL NOT BE IN VAIN”

“This is my fetish.”

“this chat is hitting dangerous levels of degeneracy”

“oh my god dude you need to bail somehow”

“Are you proud of this monster you’ve created?”

“This shit is legendary. Thank you OP.”

“ONLY THE DEAD CAN KNOW PEACE FROM THIS RUSTLING”

“m8 it’s over. Did you bring a gun to the city to protect yourself, preferably a rifle? Do you still have it?”

“So children, what did we learn today? Don’t go into Kantou's Pandemonium because you’ll fucking die. OP died so others may learn. RIP in rest.”

“Congrats OP. You forwarded the cause of the study of human biology by three centuries. I punch those numbers into my calculator and it makes a happy face.”

With those words fresh in your mind, you ended the livestream, shut off your phone, put it into your pocket, and just in case your phone ran out of battery as you slept, you plugged it into a charger. After that, you entered a peaceful, dreamless slumber. Before falling into the mindscape, you made a mental note of how exactly to find your way out of your unwitting captor. Tomorrow was going to be a long night...


End file.
